


The Old Wolf Watches

by masulevin



Series: Gifts & Giveaways [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Halamshiral, Orlais
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-19 08:39:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9430799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masulevin/pseuds/masulevin
Summary: “I figure maybe they both attend some sort of diplomatic meeting, bond a bit over hating Orlais, maybe?”Forthekeekester, who requested her Nora Trevelyan meeting my Nora Lavellan. I left the good Lady Trevelyan as the Inquisitor and made my Nora a… we’ll say she’s servant in Halamshiral. That’s what the Orlesians think, anyway.Post-Inquisition but before Trespasser.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thekeekster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekeekster/gifts).



Nora takes a deep breath before stepping out of the carriage. She has to remember who she is, where she is, and what she’s here to do before she can square her shoulders and raise her chin and face the sea of masks that wait for her outside of the Winter Palace.

Cullen offers her his hand as she exits, and she takes it with a warm smile. It’s likely to be her last real smile for the duration of their stay, and the pair holds each other’s eyes for a long moment before she blinks and breaks the spell.

Out of the carriage, she takes a moment to smooth her full skirts with one hand as Cullen tucks her other into the crook of his elbow. Though Leliana thought it would be a good idea for both of them to present as unattached--better for the Inquisition’s reputation, she said, to have two of the most asked-after members of its leadership be seen as available--Cullen had put his foot down, and Nora was pleased to have him by her side.

She’s even more thankful now that she has to face the nobles again. She clutches his arm just a little too tightly as he leads her up the path toward the palace, dread settling heavily in her stomach.

Josephine is already waiting for them in the courtyard, and she flashes them a brilliant smile when she sees them approaching. Nora grins back at her, the expression a little wobbly, a ghost of the smile she gave Cullen just a few moments before.

They’re met at the palace doors by Empress Celene herself. The woman is smiling under her mask, but it’s impossible to see her eyes to really gauge what she’s thinking. Her arms are held at awkward angles over her stiff blue skirts. It feels so much like it did their first time in Halamshiral that Nora has to shake herself to remember that Celene isn’t in danger of being assassinated this time.

After introductions and pleasantries are exchanged, servants appear to guide them to their rooms. Cullen and Nora are swept apart, pushed into separate rooms on the same hallway. Cullen casts a glance over his shoulder that screams _help,_ but Nora just winks at him.

He’ll be safe enough for now. They can find each other again after the evening meal and, hopefully, scandalize some of the nobility in the process.

Nora’s servant leads her with head bowed into one of the rooms, busying herself by stoking the fire, filling the water basin on the dresser, and starting to ready Nora’s gown for the evening before Nora stops her with three simple words:

“You’re a mage.”

The servant turns, slowly, golden eyes wide with surprise. Her warm brown skin flushes under Nora’s scrutiny as she searches for a way to explain away her use of magic to start the room’s fire.

Finally, she sets her jaw and dips into a low curtsy. “Apologies, milady. I meant no offense.” She stands back up after a moment, her shoulders square, and meets Nora’s gaze.

Nora blinks. This isn’t how elves usually act in Orlais. It’s a welcome sight, really, an elf who doesn’t mind standing up for herself, but she doesn’t know what to do. She clenches her fists at her sides as the word _assassin_ flashes through her mind.

The Inquisitor killed at the Winter Palace? That could start yet another war, one southern Thedas won’t be able to handle so soon after the sealing of the Breach.

Her brain finally catches up with her body’s reflexes, and she forces a smile onto her face. “How did an elven mage come to work in the palace?” she asks, keeping her voice level.

The elf hesitates, eyes flicking over the human standing in front of her. Nora takes a step back and sits on the edge of her bed, crossing her legs at the ankle. She relaxes her fists and rests her hands in her lap, trying to show the elf that she’s non-threatening.

That she can be trusted.

If nothing else, they’re both mages still living outside of the Circle.

The elf props her hands on her hips and narrows her eyes, letting the mana gathered under her skin recede back into the Fade. The two women stare at each other for a long moment, assessing each other to see how much they can be trusted.

It’s a delicate dance, one made all the more precarious because of their social positions. Nora is the Inquisitor, arguably the most important person in Thedas, and this elven servant is… an apostate, a mage trying to hide as a servant for Maker only knows what reason.

The elf glances back at the fire, silently cursing the little bit of magic she used to start it, then over at the door, gauging how fast she’d have to run to escape before she shakes her head. She needs to deal with this _now._

“Inquisitor Trevelyan,” the elf begins, bowing slightly, “I did not mean to intrude or cause alarm.” The elf’s formal speech, clearly more educated than most of the alienage elves Nora met, makes her narrow her eyes even more. “I simply… wished to personally ensure your safety.”

The hairs on the back of Nora’s neck stand on end, and she has to suppress a shiver at the elf’s words. “Was my safety threatened?” she demands, voice suddenly hard. Surely Leliana would have alerted her if that was the case, but if this was new…

The elf shakes her head, quickly, dismissing Nora’s growing concern with barely a thought. “Not in so many words. You know how these _Orlesian_ events can be.”

Nora snorts quietly at the amount of hatred dripping from the elf’s voice when she spits the word Orlesian, agreeing immediately with the sentiment. Her lips lift at the corners as she says, “Oh, I certainly do.”

The elf blinks, almost surprised at Nora’s immediate agreement, then allows herself a small smile. She brushes long fingers over her simple servant’s dress, smoothing out wrinkles that Nora can barely see. When the elf straightens again, something seems to have changed in her mind, hardening her face and her resolve at once.

“You have nothing to fear while the old wolf watches over you,” the elf says, voice almost a whisper. “Not even in Orlais.” Nora opens her mouth to question her, but the elf continues speaking without a pause: “I will be here as long as the Inquisition is. If you need anything, you have but to ask.”

She curtsies, deeply, and turns to leave without waiting for Nora’s response.

She has one foot in the hallway before Nora shakes herself, jumps to her feet, and crosses the distance between them.

“Wait!”

The elf stops at Nora’s outburst, raising one dark eyebrow as she waits.

Nora freezes at her door, her hands clutching the frame as she struggles to know what to ask. This is something Leliana need to know, surely. Who is the old wolf? Why is he watching her? Who is this elf, and how did she find herself as Nora’s maidservant during her time in Halamshiral?

She isn’t prepared to interrogate someone, too surprised at the turn of events to be able to ask more than, “What is your name?”

The elf’s golden eyes blink once, slowly, as a smile creeps across her face. “My name is as yours,” she says. “Nora.”

And then she’s gone.


End file.
